Out of the Darkness
by Labrynth
Summary: A darkness of the soul is the worst kind.


Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to Melinda Metz originally. For anyone who has ever been in the Dark Place. 

*******

Out of the Darkness

  
The stark white walls were jarring to most to say the least. But to her they were almost soothing. Not in a way one might expect. They reminded her that she was still alive. Neither Heaven nor Hell would have stark white walls. But the harsh reality of death would probably be better than the soothing reality of life. She knew that all too well.

They had tried to make it different. Tried to mimic her real room. Any room. Something that was familiar. But each time she had ripped apart their efforts. She didn't want to be reminded of those places. The places she would never again see. Places like that existed where she was happy. Instead she chose to let the walls remind her of how incredibly alone she was.

How unmissed. How abandoned.

That's what had happened. She had been abandoned in this dark place. This dark place with it's white walls and white sheets. The dark place where the light never actually went off. The dark place that had grown in her soul.

Even the books were gone now. That was at her request as well. Sure, they had argued with her about them, but they soon came to realize she would only tear the pages apart anyway. So they took them away and let her return to herself. Let her return to the dark place. To that place deep inside that no one could touch.

Most days she spent staring at the wall. There was a TV across the room that she could see and hear if she bothered, but she honestly didn't see the point. It was all just an Illusion. An illusion of happiness. When all was said and done, that kind of illusion wasn't something she cared to entertain. Illusions didn't get rid of the dark place.

Instead she fell into that place inside of herself where the darkness couldn't quite reach. That place that held the few happy memories that she allowed herself to hold on to.

Though holding onto memories seemed pointless too. They only faded with time, eventually to be stolen by old age or death. The memories kept her mind working. Kept it from growing blank. Sometimes she thought blank would be better. Because if it were blank, then nothing could hurt her. No memories, no thoughts, no illusions no matter how happy. Those things could all be meaningless.

Just like she was.

A few of them had tried to tell her otherwise. Tried to keep her away from the all consuming darkness, but when she asked them why, they couldn't give her the answer she wanted. Soon they quit asking. Then they quit trying. And finally they didn't even think about it anymore. Just like no one thought about her anymore.

She felt it was better that way. Now that they didn't even try. All those plans they had for her. Tossed out the window. She was useless.

But then, that was something she already knew.

There were times when the white walls spoke to her. When they whispered to her. Voices from the past. Voices she knew. But never the voices she desperately wanted to hear. Those voices had forsaken her. Leaving her completely and utterly alone.

Alone. Inside and out now. If she cared, she'd be surprised they still made sure she ate. Still made sure she did all the things that would provide her with an existence.

And what an existence it was. White walls inside the chamber of darkness that owned her. Forgotten. Empty. Hollow. Twisted.

And alone. Always alone.

*******

The white wall stares back at her. Consumed her vision, became the only thing she could see. 

That was fine. It was better than looking at the clear wall. The wall that let her see the things she didn't want to see. The white wall just stared back. It had no expression, no implications. It just was.

But sometimes that wall became the screen for the memories that rolled from her head like a low budget movie. Images of them all. Of some of them alone. Of times when she remembered what it was to be her, not a shell. Before the dark place. The dark place with white walls.

Memories weren't something she allowed often. They were dangerous. They hurt and sometimes she thought they might make her cry out. Her voice always surprised her when that happened. Rough, dry, almost useless. Just like her.

The people wanted her memories. Wanted the things in her head she had made herself forget. She thought they might eat them. Make them disappear so that she would never, ever be able to see them again. That was different. Maybe she couldn't make herself remember those things she had forced herself to forget, but at least that way it had been her choice. Her decision to let them go. They hadn't been stolen from her. Memories were dangerous things.

The white sheet meets with her chin. Instead of the wall, images now played against the white cloth. To clothes. Scrubs.

The scrubs were white. As white as the walls. Something in the back of her mind told her they were fresh. But she couldn't remember ever putting them on. Couldn't remember if she had changed them.

The whites blended, becoming one as she sank into the dark place again. Into the despair and loneliness that was all she had left. In the dark place they were all there. All the people she wished to see and hear again.

But here those same people whom she loved, who had always claimed to love her, were telling her how much they hated her. How glad they were that she was gone. How easy it was now that she had slipped away from them. All of them laughed. All but one. The one she wished would just hold her. The one that always remained silent.

The dark place was cold, cruel. But it was home. It was the place that was always there.

*******

Commotion. Noise filtering into the dark place. Sounds she didn't recognize. The white wall was silent as she looked at it. It had nothing to say to her today.

Movement, just out of her line of sight. Nothing to see. Nothing worth seeing. Darkness again.

"Come on," a voice hissed. A familiar voice. Urgent. "Gotta go, gotta go!"

"Give me a second," came the response. Familiar. Reaching inside of her to touch her.

Her name. At least she thought it was her name. It had been so long since she heard it, she wasn't sure. But the dark place called to her. Spoke to her in a whisper. Told her it was just another dream.

Again. Her name. It had to be her name. It was so familiar. The dark place whispered again. Urged her to come back. It let out a howl of pain as she focused on the white wall.

The white wall. Familiar face. Someone she knew? She couldn't quite seem to remember. A name on her tongue. She tries, but her voice won't work.

The voice whispers her name again as the familiar face shakes in the negative. She can feel the pain in that body. Hear it when it speaks.

The other voice speaks again.

"Come on man, we are out of time." Urgently it speaks. With fear. "Gotta get gone."

The dark place screams at her. Screams for her to come back. The lure is strong. She can feel the pull. The familiar pull. Icy tendrils of dark fog reach out to her mind. The face. The familiar face. She sees the face smile at her. Feels familiar arms pull her from the bed. Hold her tightly.

No more white wall. Now it's just the dark place.

*******

Scream. Ripped from her throat as she awakens from the nightmare. But it's silent. Walls. White walls. Desperately she searches for the walls. Only darkness.

A hand in the darkness. Her name. She feels herself being pulled down. Drowning. It's like drowning. Drowning without water. Drowning in the dark place. Her name again. So familiar. That voice. The face flutters in her mind as arms wrap around her and pull her close.

The voice is soft. Soothing. But soothing in a way the white walls weren't. The voice talks softly. Nonsense. Words she can't put together to find the meaning of. But words that seem so familiar to her. Words she knows belong together. She lets the voice soothe. Lets it take her back to sleep.

*******

She is walking, taking her time. The glow is there. He has said the words to her. She can still feel them washing over her. The Crashdown is only a few blocks away. Everyone will be there. He will be there soon, but she doubts he is there yet. No reason to hurry. Plenty of time to turn the moment over and over in her head. The words. The smile. The look on his face when he said them. The glow spreads through her again at the memory. Her steps slow and come to a stop. She smiles at no one again.

A sound. Strange. Not right. It shatters her reverie. Loud, booming. A scream. She runs. Instinct tells her what is happening, but denial rises up inside of her. This can't be happening. There wasn't enough proof. They had made sure of that.

Screeching to a halt, she takes in the scene unfolding less than a block away.

They are all being hauled away from the building by men with guns. Big guns. The smell of gunpowder is in the air. They have been fired. Three Hum-Vee's are stopped, but still running. She can see men behind the wheel of two of them. The sound again. A sharp crack in the air. It makes her jump. The red and blue lights suddenly flash in the night, playing strangely against the camouflage paint on the Hummers.

Her friends are tossed into the waiting vehicles. She hears the Sheriff demand they stop. Demand they be let go. There is no reason for this he says. There is screaming from inside the Crashdown. Another crack and the window of the police SUV shatters, glass raining down. Valenti falls to the ground. She can't tell if he's been hit or not. For some reason the thought strikes an arctic fear in her. If another law man can be shot, then what will happen to them? But she doesn't have to ask that, because she already knows. They will kill them. Kill her.

Her feet move her slowly backwards, her eyes still riveted to the street in front of her. He wasn't there yet. She had to get to him before they did. Then they could figure out what to do exactly. The screech of tires sound behind her as she spins, ready to run for her life. Her life and the lives of her friends. And his. They will go after him next.

She moves, sliding around them swiftly. Her heart pounds in her chest as her feet slam against the ground. Tennis shoes would have been better for this. She can sense them behind her but knows they are losing ground. With her head down, she calls on reserves of strength and sped she isn't sure she has.

It takes what seems like an eternity before she reaches his street. With the last of her energy she races to his house.

Confusion spills into her mind as she realizes his car isn't there. Oh God. He's gone to meet us, she thinks. Indecision eats her as she tries to decide what to do. Too late she decides to run. She has to find him. The men are there suddenly. She tries to get away, batting at hands, even guns. But it does no good. The hand clamps on her arm and spins her around. Lashing out, she doesn't feel the person behind her until the needle pierces her neck.

She hears someone speak, "I told you she'd come directly here. We should wait for the other one."

_Oh please no_, she whimpers inside her mind as she feels muscles give and the ground coming up to meet her, _Please be smarter than that. Please. Oh God. Tell him I love him. Let him know I love him. _

*******

"I tried," she moans hoarsely, "I swear, I tried."

Her name. Spoken softly, gently. With love. Tears make tracks down her cheeks. Over and over again, "I tried." The voice tries to soothe her. Arms wrap tightly around her, holding her close.

"I know," the voice finally whispers.

It is enough to calm her. She has forgotten that night for a reason, but now it has come back to her. She wonders if the dark place has given it to her as punishment. The event plays over in her mind once more. This time she realizes there is no one else in the room but them. Horror and dread flood through her.

"The others?" she asks in a hopeless whisper.

A hand strokes her hair.

"Shh," the voice whispers in her ear. "I'll tell you everything later."

*******

  
Light in the land of eternal darkness. Not the light that is always there. Tormenting her. Real light. Brilliant light that sears her eyes as she tries to open them. The whimper causes the voices around her to stop. She hadn't noticed them until the silence.

Weight on the bed causes it to sag and she flinches from the touch she feels on her shoulder. Then she hears the voice again. So familiar, but so distant. Her mind works, but she still cannot place it. It is the voice that leaks into the dark place. It tells her she is okay. Tells her to sleep until it's time to go. Somehow she knows it's almost time to go.

A new voice. New but old.

"The van is ready. We can't stay much longer. They're already searching."

"We'll be ready," the soothing voice assures the other.

She feels them leave and a sob escapes her. The familiar touch is warm as it brushes against her cheek. The dark place begins to whisper. Calling to her with promises of oblivion. But the touch speaks to her as well. Tells her she must be strong. Must hold on. The voice is gentle, soft, but it speaks words she doesn't wish to hear.

"Come on," it urges, "You need to remember. You have to come back to us. Come back to me."

The darkness calls, the promises more than she can refuse. With a faint sigh she sinks into the offered oblivion.

*******

Some part deep inside of her had known, but hearing the words is enough to break her.

"They're all dead," it repeated. "Even the one you tried so hard to get to. All of them. Dead. Give us what we want or you'll end up the same."

But the words had already killed her. One by one, she began to examine her memories. Examine, then erase them. Only a precious few are allowed to remain with her. She has even forced herself to forget their names. Their faces only shadows in the memories she won't, or can't, forget. Letting go of it all, she caresses the memory of early in that night one more time.

***

He smiled when he said it. His hand pushes an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

"You're so beautiful," he told her, "But that's not why I love you so much."

The grin on her face feels huge, but it can't be helped.

"Oh really?" she asks, "What is the reason then?"

His mouth is a heartbeat from hers.

"Because you're you," he replies as he kisses her.

***

She doesn't allow thoughts of just a few hours later to spoil the memory for her. Playing it one last time in her head, in her heart, she lets it go without so much as blinking.

Now it is all gone. All of the things they want from her can no longer be attained no matter how hard they might try.

From then on they would only find the darkness they created. The darkness that was her.

*******

Movement. She seems to recall something about a van. Even after she opens her eyes, prepared for the pain cause by the light, she sees nothing. Panic wells up inside of her. The darkness pulls at her, tells her to come back. It is so very tempting. Fear of the unknown is as strong as fear of the forgotten.

She feels the presence before she feels the touch or hears the voice.

"You're fine," the voice tries to reassure her as arms pull her close. "But no matter what happens, you have to be quiet. Do you understand?"

With a nod, she hopes the voice knows she understands, but in the darkness she cannot be sure.

Darkness sings to her, trying to lure her back into the depths. With vague annoyance she shoves it aside, careful to let the promises fall on deaf ears. She needs sleep now, not oblivion.

*******

"Anything under here?"

A new voice startles her awake as she hears a fist pound against something above her. The sound of surprise that rises in her gets stuck in a throat unable to make sound.

"Nope. Built it solid myself." A familiar voice. "The kids used to like to take the van camping." There was a smile, she could hear it in his voice. "I know how kids are and what they are usually up to. The last thing I need is to have one of them break it."

She hears another thump. Her lip bleeds as she bites it to keep from crying out. Even though she knows better, she wishes the voice would speak. As if it has read her mind, she feels a hand meet hers. Fingers intertwine making the forced silence easier. She has not been forgotten. She is not abandoned.

More words, this time muffled as doors are slammed shut. Within a few minutes she can feel the engine start and begin to move again.

"Sleep," the voice whispers as the hand squeezes hers. "You'll understand it all soon."

Strangely comforted by both words and touch, she closes her eyes once again.

*******

The quarry. They had all come together here in a time of crisis. The six of them. She looks at them, their faces blocked by shadow, blurred so she can't see them. Names do not come to her either. She has willed it that way.

But one of them speaks. A voice she knows well, too well. The voice calls her by name. Begs her to remember. The voice continues to speak as the shadow seems to slowly solidify. Cracks run through the grey and without warning it shatters, falling to the ground in shards. The voice, the face. Oh God, how could she ever forget this?

She runs to him, throwing her arms around him. Pulling him tightly to her, she whispers, her words running together. He holds her tightly and smiles. The sound of other shadows shattering forces her to turn, unwillingly, from him. She can see them all now. They all smile and reach for her with open arms.

One by one she hugs them, their names and faces burned into her mind once more. When she is done, she returns to his arms. Feeling them around her, she takes a deep breath.

"I'm ready to remember," she tells him in a shaky voice.

He drops a kiss to the top of her head and nods.

The quarry dissolves around her.

*******

He is there to hold her before she comes fully awake.

"I'm here," he assures her as he wraps her in his arms.

She calls his name and smiles weakly up at him. Her hand reaches up to touch him, tracing the lines of his face. Relearning the feel of his skin against her fingertips. A finger traces his lips and she can feel him tense under her.

"I missed you," he tells her.

The smile she gives is genuine. "I know," she tells him. "I could feel it. You were the only one who didn't speak. Who didn't tell me I had killed them."

He doesn't try to make much sense from her words. He knows they come from a place inside of her that he cannot touch or begin to understand. A place that has been made within her. A dark place.

"What do you remember?" he asks gently, not wanting to push or force her.

"I remember you." Her fingers trace his face again, his neck, his chest. "I remember names, faces."

"Do you want me to tell you?"

She shakes her head and looks up at him. "No. Not yet." Her eyes lock onto his mouth. Fingers slide across his lower lip once more. "Kiss me."

He almost questions her, his eyes searching hers for some sign that she doesn't understand, that she doesn't know what she has asked. He sees nothing. Slowly he bends his head, bringing his lips to hers.

Her mouth is soft, like he remembers. He is gentle, not wanting to startle her. Her hands move to his neck, pulling him closer. Letting her control the kiss, he feels her tongue slide against his bottom lip.

The kiss is all and more than she remembers. His mouth on hers feels right. She knows he is trying to be gentle with her. Suddenly she craves more. Craves his skin next to hers. Breaking the kiss, she looks up into his eyes.

"You love me." It wasn't a question. There has never been any doubt in her about that fact. Even in the darkness she knew.

He smiles softly, brushing hair from her face.

"I always have."

She searches for any hesitation. There is none.

"Show me."

He tenses, unable to understand such a request. If she knows, then how is he supposed to show her?

"How?" he asks.

"Make love to me," she whispers as she pulls his mouth down to meet hers. 

Their lips meet, all the hesitation from before is now gone. She clings to him as he moves her backward. Her back meets the bed and she pulls him down on top of her. Clutching his shoulders, she doesn't let him leave her again. Doesn't let him think twice.

Hands meet skin causing heat to well up in her.

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of her mind, a spark of light flickers into existence.

*******

It stretches out before her like some long and winding ghost road. Adjusting her sunglasses again, she takes a deep breath. A hand on her shoulder. She reaches up to place hers over it. Strength and courage flow into her from that simple contact.

With a curt nod, she slips from the car. "I'm ready," she says.

He leads her silently through the stones. There will be a time when he will need to speak, but now is not it. It only takes a few minutes for them to reach their destination. They stop, standing a few paces away. He lets her go forward alone from here. 

She kneels, letting the glasses fall from her face with the tears. Her hand reaches out, tracing the lines of the name in the headstone. The black marble is cold and unfeeling under them. It doesn't give as she presses her fingers against it, taking in the finality of it. It shouldn't have been this way.

Sobs well up inside of her, escaping with great force. The tremors threaten to overcome her, send her sprawling to the ground. He comes to her then, kneeling next to her. Wrapping and arm around her shoulders, he sits then pulls her into his lap.

They sit in silence, her sobs the only thing to make noise in this place. With time they subside and she rests her head against his shoulder. Hands meet, fingers intertwine.

"Tell me," she whispers. "I need to know."

He nods, tossing a glance to the stone next to the one they sat before. She hadn't seen that one yet. But he couldn't leave it out. Couldn't lie to her. She had to know.

"Alright," he agrees as he winds his arms around her waist. Fingers do not part and she leans back against him, still staring at the unfeeling marble. More unfeeling than the white walls from before.

***

The carnage at the Crashdown was horrible. The bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Parker lay on the floor draped with white sheets. White sheets stained red. Kyle left for the hospital in the back of an ambulance, the sirens screaming out into the night. Wounded patrons, innocent bystanders caught in the fire, were being treated by paramedics. Sheriff Valenti sat on the bumper of an ambulance, holding a dressing to his eye as the paramedic tried to force him to go get stitches. There was no need to see any more. He knew they were gone. Knew she was gone.

Something told him to ditch his car. He hadn't been there and knew they would be looking for him. Panic forced him home, taking him by backyard and alley to his street. The black car struck fear in him, but fear gave way to utter helplessness as he watched her being tossed roughly into the back. It took every ounce of will he had not to cry out, not to follow and try to save her. That would only lead to his death and he knew it. Now was not the time to panic. Now was the time to think clearly. It was the only way he would be able to save her. To save them all.

_Think!_ he screamed at himself. Standing in the shadows, his mind tried to come up with something as lights sliced through the night once again. Fearing they had returned, he backed further into the darkness, letting it swallow him.

Streetlights glinted off the red and blue light bar on top of the Ford Explorer. The spotlight played over the side of the house, across the driveway, and to the skid marks left on the pavement. He heard the curse and knew it was time to share the secret he had guarded for so long now. With more courage than he felt, he stepped into the light.

The SUV came to a stop and the passenger side door swung open. He stepped to it, not hesitating as he climbed inside. This could be the only chance he had to possibly get them out alive.

"You saw?" Valenti asked as he started the vehicle moving again. He didn't want to sit still for long, it was too dangerous. The window was gone. Small bits of glass stood up from the bottom of the frame. Cool air rushed in, but neither seemed to notice it.

"Enough," he responded. "Kyle?"

"Shot. He'll be okay. He's in surgery now. I know he'll make it." Valenti looked at him. "It was more important that I find you."

He nodded and closed his eyes. This felt like some nightmare gone horribly wrong. "Did they get everyone?"

The Sheriff offered a sympathetic nod. His heart ached for the boy. "Everyone but you I think." The vehicle pulled over, parking in an alley. Shadows swallowed them like they had eaten him earlier. The man turned to look at him. "I tried to stop it. I didn't want your friends to be hurt."

Somehow he knew this to be true. "I know," he whispered, unable to stop the tears. Sobs tore through him as the fate of his friends, of the woman he loved, ran through his mind.

Arms hugged him tightly across the console and he tried to take comfort in their strength. Tried to tell himself he would be able to help them. To save them before it was too late.

"We'll get them back," Valenti promised. "If it's the last thing I do, we will get them back."

***

The compound loomed ahead, dark even against the dark night. It somehow seemed unholy, like a standing hell. He didn't doubt that's exactly what it was. Some kind of hell that even Dante couldn't imagine amid his Inferno. They came here, both armed and ready, but he felt there would never be a way they would be prepared. No way to feel at ease as they walked into that hell.

The stolen code got them inside. He was awed that a few simple numbers should shift the tons of metal and rock that had blocked their way. That had stood between them and those they sought. It got them through the second set of doors. It even got them into the lab. But then all hell broke loose. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it would happen, but he still jumped when the noise started.

Sirens blared, making his eardrums feel like they had been split open. Blood dribbling from them wouldn't have surprised him any after a few seconds of it. He ran, trying to find the cells. Needing to find them. He felt that need growing ever larger, so large he thought he would explode. Grey walls flew by him as he ran, his shoes slapping against the grey tile floor. Suddenly he heard them, could hear them yelling. Hope pushed back the need. Somehow they knew it was him. Knew he was there to get them out. They knew he hadn't deserted them. Hadn't left them to die.

Slamming through the swinging doors, he plowed into a man wearing army fatigues. Both jumped back in surprise, taking a second to understand. He started to say something, but the cries of his friends turned his attention to the cells. The solider raised his gun, but not in time. Without hesitation, he snapped the 9mm up and fired. Satisfaction flooded him as the man fell to the ground, blood pooling around him. The crimson spilled across the white floor, and he can feel it spill across his soul as well. Blood for blood.

_That was for the Parkers._

Keys. He needed those keys. Snatching them from the spot on the floor they fell, he turned to the first cell. Fumbling, he set about finding the right key. Metal against metal, does it fit? No, the next one then. The process went through his mind like one might follow a flow chart. Finally it slid home smoothly. With a sharp turn, he felt the catch and stepped back. The white door slid open. Both of them look worn, but otherwise ok. No time to say anything. It is enough they are free again. Both of them seem to understand this. He moved to the next cell, inserted the key and turned.

It didn't work. He swore and started his way through the keys again. The right one is found with the second key. They stood behind him, neither of them knowing who was in this cell. Stepping back as the door slid open, he waited. Dark eyes met his, looking at him warily until they realize who he was. 

They all heard the heavy footsteps approaching rapidly. Coming at a dead run. Guessing, he rammed a key into the next slot and turned. Somehow he managed to find the right key on the first try. She collapsed into his arms as the door slid open. As much as he loved her, she isn't the one he sought. Helping her to the others, he moved to the fourth door, reaching it just as the shot rang out.

A cry spun him around as the gunshot retort hung in the air. The noise is deafening in such a space, and his ears go between not hearing anything to ringing. The unthinkable has happened and they all felt it. One of them sank to the ground, blood spilling from her at a pace he thought impossible. Another knelt next to her, his hands already touching her, trying to make the connection. A second retort. Healing hands slip away as he crumbled next to her.

Bringing his own gun up, he fired wildly, unconcerned about stray bullets or ricochets. The wary one is finally forced into action and reached for the closest guard. The man slumped, having been taken easily, but the second won't be stopped so quickly. The machine gun clacked as it held up level with it's target. He backed away slowly, slipping in the blood of his friends. With a pang of loss, he knew he couldn't help them. Another shot sounded and he waited for the pain of the bullet, but felt nothing.

Blood sprayed from the man's mouth as he pitched forward. Red sprayed the wall, a few drops landing on the one who intended to kill him with a touch. He fell with a dull thud against the white floor. Crimson spread rapidly out from under him, contrasting dramatically with the grey floor. Valenti stood behind him.

"Is that everyone?" the Sheriff asked quietly.

"No," he replied. "She's still in there." He could not leave without the one he came for.

Moving fast, he rammed keys against the slot, trying to find the right fit. After an eternity, the metal slid home and he twisted violently. The door slid open and he felt the hope swell within him.

But she was not there.

"No!" he wailed, throwing the keys into the room. There are no more cells left to try.

"Come on," the wary one tells him, "We've got to get out of here."

He managed to turn, stumbling forward almost blindly. He never once considered she wouldn't be there. Hope shattered within him and fell to the floor in invisible pieces.

Knowing his friend is unable to do so after having the only one he seeks not there, the wary one took one last look at the bodies of his friends then scooped their final friend up into his arms. He wouldn't lose another one tonight. Especially not this one.

As fast as humanly possible, they made their way out of hell and into the darkness.

***  
The tears slide silently down her cheeks, falling to his hands. He hugs her close, knowing it hurts her. Knowing she feels the loss keenly.

Waiting until she stills, he wishes he could take her pain. Anything to make right the things that had gone so horribly wrong.

"How long was I gone?" she asks as soon as the tears subside enough to do so.

"Just over a year. It took us that long to find you."

***

The endless walls of white tore at him, pulled at some forgotten corner of his mind. Some corner that he knew held his sanity. He tried to shut them out as he ran, making his way through the winding maze. When he thought he had shut out the walls, some image, some memory, was pulled from his mind. Kyle was behind. Without looking back to the other boy, he wondered if the walls effected him in the same way. If they snatched thought and memory from him as well. Their footfalls echoed loudly against the walls. Endless white walls. Cold tile walls. Neither of them worried about the sound. Not when they were this close.

The lab. Shiny metal table. A tray to hold instruments. Metal cabinets and a sink along one wall. TV in the corner. A few padded chairs. He couldn't stop himself from wondering what they might have done to her on that table. Rage welled up in him. Red touched the edges of his vision from the strength of his emotion. So caught up in the anger, he didn't see the guard. Didn't realize someone else was there until he heard the gunfire. The guard fell as Kyle lowered the gun.

"Come on man," he said. "We can't waste time. Is she here?"

Turning a tight circle, he tried to peer through the clear glass of each cell. Nothing. She wasn't here. Hope died within him once again leaving him empty and numb. He turned to reply, to tell Kyle it was over. Movement. The last cell.

Running, he skidded to a stop in front of it. It was her! She was on the bed, still. He wondered why she hadn't moved. Surely she had heard the noise, the commotion? It didn't matter. With jabbing motions, he punched a code into the keypad next to the door. Not even for an instant did he consider the code wouldn't work. To even think it could cause it to happen.

The door slid open and he rushed to her.

"Come on," Kyle hissed urgently. "Gotta go, gotta go!"

"Give me a second," he responded. Reaching out, he placed a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were open, but they stared into nothingness. No life shone from within the brown depths.

He whispered her name. She blinked, but didn't move. _God, what have they done to you?_ He touched her face gently and whispered her name again. A frown creased her brow as her eyes looked at him for only a second. They went blank again, but he felt her trying to think, trying to figure it all out. A thin sound issued from her throat. He shook his head as her name came involuntarily to his lips, the sound tore the heart out of his body.

"Come on man, we are out of time." Kyle urged, the fear a vivid color in his voice. "Gotta get gone."

Unable to waste any more time, he hauled her up from the bed. Holding her close to him, he carried her from the room. She felt like dead weight, and the thought made him shudder. He was forced to watch her breathe for a moment just to prove she was alive in his arms.

"There!" Kyle pointed to a wheelchair in the corner.

He carried her there and placed her gently in it. He kissed her forehead lightly, then moved to the back of the chair and pushed. The wheels turned silently against the white tile.

"Come on, it's way past time to get the hell out of here."

The minutes it took to get back out felt like lifetimes. Kyle led the way, gun drawn. 

***

"Maria?" she asks quietly.

"Gone. Just before we came to get you. She and Michael they tried to have a child. She died giving birth." He feels the tears fall from his own eyes as her tears fall against his skin again. With a finger, he gestures to the grave next to the one they sit at. "Michael nearly lost it. But he had to think about the baby."

"The baby? It lived?"

"She lived. Elizabeth Maria Guerin is alive and well."

He hugs her close. Her eyes look from the grave of her friend to the grave of her brother and the woman he loved more than anything else.

"Alex?"

He smiles slightly at the sound of his name coming from her.

"Yeah?"

"What now?"

"What do you mean?"

"They're still hunting us, aren't they?" A nod. "So what do we do now? Do we hide forever?"

"No, not forever. But for a while. Soon it will be time to go in again. There's another compound. We know there are others there. Maybe like you, but we aren't sure. Michael got the files while we were getting you out. We've all decided we can't just leave them there." He rests his chin on the top of her head. "Valenti is working on finding codes to get us in. Finding details. As soon as he has them, we'll go in. Get them someplace safe."

"Safe?" It almost makes her laugh.

"Safer."

"Then what?"

"I don't know." Thoughtfully, he looks at the graves of his friends. "Maybe it's time for us to have our own babies then."

She smiles and lifts his hand to her mouth, kissing it softly. "I'd like that."

"Me too." She turns in his lap and looks at him. Alex smiles at her, his hand gliding against her cheek. "I love you Isabel."

Smiling, Isabel leans against his touch. "I love you too Alex. You kept me sane. Kept me from falling into the dark place so far I couldn't get out. You're my light."

Their lips meet, softly, a kiss of undying love.

"Come on," he urges as she rises from his lap. "We've got work to do."

Isabel holds out a hand, helping him up. "More people to pull up from the darkness."

*****

I love to recieve feed back on my work, but I ask that if you do provide a review that you please be careful what you say. The story has been written specifically to keep the people involved unknown until the end. So please, don't give it away if you review it. Not only do you really take out of the impact of the story, but you ruin it for other people as well.

> > > > > > Thank you 
>>>>>> 
>>>>>> -- Labrynth


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